The Rise of the Speaker

by Pete Driscoll

  Chapter 16

  The Montana incident

  It had been two weeks since my conversation with General Blake, he still had a little over an hour until the exact two-week deadline. I wasn’t expecting results; I knew he couldn’t work miracles in fourteen days, but I was certainly expecting some progress. Alice and I had spent the past week or so working on plans for the future. As willing as I was to stand my ground and defend Alice and myself, I had come to realise that staying in the US was no longer viable in the long term. I couldn’t hide forever, and people would almost certainly die when they eventually found us, I didn’t want that if it could be avoided – we needed an escape plan.

  With that in mind, Alice and I had developed the artisans. The Artisans were based around the same autonomous system and same robotic frame as the Spartans, except instead of being designed for combat, the Artisans were built for other purposes.

  Two of the three armour layers were stripped out and extra muscle fibres were installed to increase their load bearing capacity, they were sealed to make them watertight, their reflexes and fine motor control was improved, and geological sensors were installed into their visual processors. These machines were the perfect support drones; akin to the logistical and engineering cores of modern militaries.

  As to how these new machines could help us, they were the perfect construction machines; able to build anything from a simple house to a hydroelectric dam to a nuclear hardened bunker. They could autonomously locate and extract all the necessary building materials to construct any structure, anywhere. The cabin had been useful because it was so hard to find – we were off the grid, at least as far as conventional methods of tracking us were concerned – but if the cabin was compromised, if we needed to escape our haven, then we were going to have to build a new one.

  Alice had come up with some ideas, some of them were pretty ‘out-there’ – even for Alice – but the genius behind each of them was obvious. The government would find it very difficult to find us in any of the places she had suggested, and almost impossible for them to get to us. She had sent dozens of Artisans off in Nanite replicated trucks to scout out a few locations, we wouldn’t hear back from them for a while. Once a suitable location was found, Nanite swarms would start transporting massive amounts of Carbonite there to start construction on our newest project.

  In the meantime, she had finished construction on 20 of the Spartan soldiers and stood them on guard around the perimeter of our compound. Coupled with Alice’s advanced surveillance cameras, a small radar dome on the roof of the cabin and constant monitoring of military, intelligence and law enforcement communication channels, there was no way we could be detected without our knowledge.

  “Are you sure all of this is necessary?” I asked Alice as I stepped back into the house in time for the next call to General Blake. “we have been here for almost a year, in that time, nobody has come within 3 miles of this place.”

  The afternoon sun that now filtered through the windows had long burned off the morning dews that I always loved about this time of year. The winter had been mild; misty mornings and a few scattered frosts, but the forest canopy had held in the warmth. Even on the days when the rest of Kentucky had suffered colder temperatures, the climate in the forest had seemed almost pleasant.

  “up until very recently, the authorities had no reason to believe you were alive, so they weren’t looking for either us or the cabin.” Alice answered evenly. “You’re recent… activities… have changed that assumption, the command has been aware for some time of at least the possibility that you are still alive. So now they are looking - and they are looking hard.”

  “shit!” I muttered to myself. “Do you think they will find us?”

  “Yes.” She answered bluntly. “There are only a finite number of places you can hide, it may take them years to pin down our exact location, but it will happen eventually. That is, of course, unless General Blake can solve our problem for us.”

  “You optimistic?”

  “Not even a little bit.”

  “Me neither. Ok, establish the connection.”

  A few seconds later the image of Morgan Blake blinked into existence on Alice’s large plasma screen. Every time I had ever seen General Blake, he had been the epitome of military presentation; hair well kept, eyes bright and alert, clean shaven and his clothes pressed and immaculately presented. Today was different; on the screen was a tired, haggard shadow of a man who looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and every time he had tried, he had done so in the clothes he was wearing right now. He looked completely burned out.

  “Marcus,” he said quietly, even his voice lacked the strength and conviction I had come to expect from him. “I have been waiting for your call.”

  “General Blake,” I responded, the pessimism of my earlier conversation with Alice now seeming justified. “I would ask how it is going on your end but…” I didn’t need to finish my sentence; he knew what I meant.

  “I am resigning.” He said flatly after a shot pause before adding “in protest.”

  I hadn’t expected that. “Why don’t you tell me what happened.” I suggested after allowing that to settle

  “I tracked down your witnesses, I spoke to McCleary and to Benson, they both confirmed your story. Caplin…” he trailed off.

  “is still in hiding?”

  Blake took a deep breath. “Caplin is dead.”

  “What?!?”

  “Hit by a drunk driver five days ago, sounds a bit convenient right? Looked into the driver and guess what. He’s dead too, overdosed; his family swear that he had never taken drugs in his life.”

  “Jesus.”

  “anyway, I reviewed your footage and run the details through the DoD database, got the names and backgrounds of the other two men in the video, crossed referenced them with the people you have already killed and came up with an airtight case. You were right… this was premeditated murder of a US citizen by the US government... or at least elements of it.”

  “So, what did you do with that information.”

  “I don’t have the authority to arrest a serving General, the JAG corps has to do that, and I have no authority over Hammond in the CIA at all, so I went the Joint Chiefs, laid everything out in front of them. They said they would look into it. This was three days ago.” Another pause.

  “Go on”

  The General took his glasses off and massaged the bridge of his nose as he looked down at his desk. “They took the case directly to the President…” his eyes rose to meet mine through the screen. “…they cannot confirm nor deny that this was a sanctioned operation.” The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. “I have been told, in no uncertain terms, to drop this, if I don’t….”

  “…you will end up like Caplin.” I finished for him, the General could only nod solemnly.

  “I have stood at my post for 46 years, I have loyally and faithfully defended my country, my flag and the constitution and after all that…” He looked back into the screen, the fear and despair now obvious in his eyes, “I have a family, my youngest daughter is about your age, my wife… I… I can’t let anything happen to them.”

  “I understand General.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “No son, I don’t think you do.” The General reset his glasses and took another deep breath. “Doug Reaves has been my friend for more than three decades, I would never have believed he was capable of this, it was completely outside of his character, he was a good man, not a murderer. I thought I knew him… but I missed this. So, I started digging, to see if there was anything else I missed – apparently I missed a hell of a lot. This stuff is going on all the time, they told me that they promoted me to change that, to guide the military on a new path and I believed that shit! I believed it so much that I even tried to apologise to you on their behalf, I thought Reaves would be brought up on charges, I was preparing my statement for his court martial, instead he is getting a promotion for fixing a problem for the CIA!… I
have served in every theatre of war since Grenada, I have dedicated my life to the service – and I have never been so ashamed.”

  “General, I asked you to look into this and that’s what you did.” I looked over at Alice, a single short nod telling me she knew where this was going. “Nothing is going to happen to you, or your family.”

  “And how can you possibly know that?” the general asked dejectedly as his eyes fell back to the table.

  “Because I have ways to protect you. Ways which would give Reaves and Hammond a wet dream.”

  “I hope you’re right, Marcus, I really do.” Blake replied after a reigned pause

  “Before I leave you go, it is only right that I extend the same protection to McCleary and Benson…”

  “I’ve already taken care of that,” Blake interrupted, “After I found out what happened to Caplin, I put them into protective custody, the US Marshalls have them now.”

  “Thank you, General. What will you do now?”

  “I will retire, my wife would say it’s long overdue anyway. I hand in my letter of resignation to the chairman of the joint chiefs in the morning - I will have to stay for about three months until they find a replacement - then I leave.”

  I nodded sadly, this was the end of the man’s career and he had done nothing to deserve it. “We will keep monitoring your office, you home, and your children and will keep an eye on McCleary and Benson.”

  “How do I contact you – if something else comes up”

  “Hold up a sign in front of your laptop camera,” I replied after thinking about it for a few moments, “they are always monitored.”

  “And what happens to Reaves and Hammond?”

  “I think you already know the answer to that question, General.”

  It was his time to nod sadly, “He was my friend, but what he has done…” he couldn’t finish the sentence, but his sentiment was obvious - you have my blessing. “good luck, Marcus.” He finally finished.

  “and to you, General. For what it’s worth, I think you are good man. The military has made a big mistake by not doing things your way.”

  The general smiled slightly and nodded as Alice closed the connection.

  “So…” I turned to Alice as the screen went blank.

  “Back to plan A.” she finished.

  **********************************************************************************

  Douglas Reaves was a towering, imposing specimen of a man, not a man to be trifled with even as his 7th decade approached. The man sitting on the opposite side of the table was quite different, younger – although still in his fifties – bald and bookish, he had never donned the uniform in his life, only a simple black tie. A pin of the American flag piercing the collar of his suit jacket instead of the service ribbons that adorned the General’s breast.

  “Nobody can get to us here.” Deputy director Hammond assured as they finished their meal, although not even he sounded convinced by his own words. “We are in the middle of nowhere, no fly zone for twenty miles in every direction. 50 of our best agents guarding the place, no cell phones, no radios, no reports… nobody knows we are here.”

  ‘Here’ was a log cabin, deep in the wilderness of Montana. Spring started late here, and the winter snows were still heavy on ground. Despite the bitter cold outside, the inside of the cabin was warm - cosy even - as the large stone fireplace filled the room with pleasantly temperate air.

  “If that techie son of a bitch shows his face anywhere within 10 miles…” Hammond continued to boast “…he’ll lose it.”

  The general wasn’t quite so confident. The first rule of military preparedness: never underestimate your enemy. Calling him a ‘techie son of a bitch’ was the type of arrogance that was beaten out of you in boot camp. This ‘techie’ had already killed five people, four of whom were much better trained than Hammond or any of his agents outside.

  Secondly, these CIA clowns loved to talk about Langley, they had always been very impressed with the building given to them by Harry Truman after the second world war. But it was no Fort Meade. Even though Meade started out as a training facility during the first world war, it was still a fort in every sense of the word; defendable, secure, military. It was one of the most secure buildings in the world and his adjutant had been killed inside – only five doors down the corridor from his own office – and without anyone seeing a damned thing. This log cabin – no matter how many agents were protecting it – was no Langley and it certainly was no Fort Meade, if this ‘techie son of a bitch’ could get to people there… he shuddered at the thought.

  There had been rumours, of course. That Benson character from the original mission had said that this ‘Marcus’ had just vanished into a literal puff of smoke, right before his eyes - That detail had been marked as probably the effects of PTSD in the copy of the report that had landed on his desk. - This was before you even mentioned the wounds inflicted to the other two agents that night, and the three further victims since then. Couple that with the fact that they had been investigating Itek for possibly developing advanced weaponry in the first place, and the evidence started to look more unsettling… this was a ‘techie son of a bitch’ with advanced weaponry and a grudge.

  Then there was the fact that ‘Marcus’ had gotten to Morgan Blake. His friend of almost forty years had gone to the joint chiefs with the kind of evidence only available to a first-person source. Reaves had been rattled by that; it was only the intervention of the President that had kept him out of prison. This was a new President and he wanted results; the touchy-feely approach of the previous administration had been reversed – the old guard were back in and Morgan Blake was a loose end that wouldn’t be tolerated by the new order.

  “…that cock-sucking techie prick.” Hammond was still talking; the General had tuned him out up until now. “There is always one nobody who thinks he is above the system.”

  “a nobody….” Reaves mused. “…its funny….”

  “What is?” Hammond asked with a puzzle look on his face.

  “… its funny that this guy is a nobody, a cock sucking techie son of a bitch… and we are hiding from him behind 50 federal agents. The Deputy Director of the CIA and a combat veteran three-star general are hiding from a techie… he doesn’t sound like a nobody to me.”

  “pfft,” Hammond snorted dismissively, “you sound almost impressed.”

  “A ‘techie son of a bitch’ has two of the country’s highest ranked official cowering in a cabin, only an idiot wouldn’t be impressed. Dismissing your enemy as beneath you is the quickest way to get killed by them.”

  “Don’t forget whose side you’re on Doug.” Hammond warned, the insult being received loud and clear.

  The General puffed out his considerable chest and stared down at the smaller man. The Deputy Director shrank in his chair, rank wouldn’t be a factor if the military man decided to take that challenge personally and Hammond – despite being twenty years his junior – couldn’t hope to match the man if things became physical.

  “let’s just have a drink and relax,” Hammond back tracked as the General’s eyes bore into him. “now we know he’s alive, my boys will find him in a couple of days. Let’s just look at this like a well-deserved vacation… do you fish?” Reaves tuned out the incessant talking again as he walked to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a 20-year-old scotch. These CIA clowns might be annoying, but they sure knew their whiskey.

  Ten and a half miles away, a dark grey panel van pulled up to side of the road, its engines idling for a few seconds before it burst into what looked like a swarm of insects. As the swarm dissipated, six lurking figures started walking towards the treeline that dominated either side of the road. Breaking into three formations of two, they drew their weapons and headed towards their target. The United States government was about to receive its official introduction to the Spartans.

  “intruders detected, three miles from Alpha…” the radio hissed inside the cabin. Reaves and Hammond both
spun around to look at the communications terminal in one corner of the room. The young comms operator turned to look back them, his eyes displaying the sort of confidence common in youth. “south by south west, team 6, moving to intercept…”

  “How the hell did he find us?” Hammond whispered under his breath, although neither of them knew who he was whispering to.

  “probably some hikers” another voice came over the comms channel.

  “team 6 report….” The coms officer barked into a mic… Silence. Hammond looked uneasily at Reaves. Reaves pulled his sidearm out of his holster. “team 6, report…. Answer me dammit!... Team 4, move to investigate… team 9, back them up!... Report BEFORE engaging.”

  “approaching location of last transmission,” this was a different voice, Reaves knew the fear in that voice, he had felt it himself when he had seen combat.

  “no sign of them so far, they…. Standby… Standby…. confirmed… Team 6 is down, I repeat, team 6 is down… all men fan out, Donny, go left, Mack, take right.”

  “I have footprints over here, Jesus, they’re huge…”

  “Donny, Mack, cover the flanks, all other team members converge on team 9’s position…”

  “CONTACT, CONTACT!! TEAM 2 UNDER HEAVY FIRE ON WESTERN PERIMETER… TAKING CASUALTIES!”

  “say again team 2…” the young com officer shouted back into the com terminal as Reaves cocked his weapon. “did you say Western…”

  “CONTACT, CONTACT, TEAM 7 TAKING FIRE ON NORTHEN FLANK!! Johnson, take cover behind that AAARRGH!!”

  “all teams report!!” the com sergeant yelled into the mic.

  “team 4 still tracking target, less than one mile out, team 9 is with us, team 6 is down… I can hear gunfire from our west and to the north. Multiple targets converging on alpha, fire fight is not with our target, I repeat, firefight is not with our targets... assuming multiple points of attack”

  “Received… team 2 report in…” Static was his only response. “team 7, report!” static again.